


True Disaster

by NuriaSchnee



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Angst, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Arguing, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Mess (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Blood, Blood and Injury, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Canon Compliant, Car Accidents, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Demisexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demisexual Crowley (Good Omens), Discorporated Crowley (Good Omens), Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Heavy Angst, Hell is Terrible (Good Omens), Holy Water, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Jealous Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Misunderstandings, Orgasm Control, Post-Canon, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), Post-Scene: The Ritz (Good Omens), Power Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Romance, Secret Relationship, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Sick Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Tender Sex, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), Virgin Crowley (Good Omens), breaking up, mentions of torture, sad sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27576011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuriaSchnee/pseuds/NuriaSchnee
Summary: After Crowley saves him in 1941, Aziraphale realises he's fallen in love with the demon. Scared this dangerous feeling of his will cause problems to his friend, he tries to break their relationship. However, his plan to push the demon away fails and they end up admitting their feelings to each other.To be able to be together and keep it a secret, Crowley stops time every time they meet. However brilliant this seems at first, it doesn't take long to backfire, opening new wounds and raising more barriers between them.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	1. keep playing my heartstrings faster and faster, you can be just what i want, my true disaster

At first, staring at Crowley, handing him the bag with his books, he thought he’d Fallen. It didn’t hurt, but he felt as if he’d hit the floor hard, his corporation starting to tremble with the invisible force pushing him down, as if gravity was trying to swallow him.

But he was standing and knew his wings were safe and untouched in another plane. No hit against the floor. No force trying to drag him down. Aziraphale was still an angel. However, he’d still fallen, just not from grace.

He reached for the bag, barely, weak fingers curling around the handle. Crowley kept his grip firm until he was sure Aziraphale had it, and their fingers touched slightly as he let go. He felt as if Falling for the second time in that minute, overwhelmed with the gentleness of the demon and the warm sensation of his skin producing a little spark there, expanding across his whole being.

“Lift home?” Crowley said softly, getting down the rubble and starting to walk down the destroyed aisle of the church.

Aziraphale followed him with his gaze, unblinking, feeling extremely warm and with his heartbeat hammering in his eardrums. He couldn’t move. If he tried, his knees would buckle for sure. The angel wasn’t sure what was going on inside him. It didn’t seem due to the shock. He hadn’t been scared. Not, at least, since Crowley had made his dramatic entrance. The demon always came with a feeling of safety that made Aziraphale wary, not knowing if it was part of his demonic essence, to make everyone feel he was trustworthy, or it was just the way he was. Anyway, he always made him feel safe and less anxious every time they met —which they shouldn't have been doing at all—.

Definitely, it wasn’t the shock.

Maybe it was because he’d been almost a century thinking he’d never see him again. After their last meeting at St. James park, Aziraphale had been terrified. He shouldn’t have worried —and cared— about Crowley as much as he did, but when the demon asked him for holy water everything around him seemed to crumble. Crowley always had been around and he couldn’t imagine his life without him popping up all of a sudden, when he less expected him, with his sly smiles and mocking tone. He couldn’t imagine him ending himself, with a weapon Aziraphale had given him just like that. He couldn’t. Just couldn’t.

Crowley had seemed so angry with him after that. Aziraphale had been too, although, in disbelief of what he was hearing, afraid for what was going on inside the demon’s mind. He left him behind that day and regretted it for decades, his mind filling with horrifying questions that wouldn’t leave his thoughts. What if he ended up acquiring holy water through another method? What if he used it? What if he never saw him again because he ended himself?

He could feel Crowley after millennia of sensing his presence, if he tried. He could know if he was on Earth or not, no matter how far they were from each other. So, Aziraphale spent too much time concentrating on that feeling, making sure the demon still existed, even if he never returned to him or they never talked again.

But Crowley was there now. Alive and still just as mocking as he’d always been. And he had saved him, and his books, even if he hadn’t had to, not after the way they parted the last time. So considerate, talking so softly, offering a lift and handing him the books, waiting until Aziraphale had it grabbed, keeping sure the bag didn’t fall to the floor. Because he cared. He cared about him, and the things he loved.

He was seeing it now, realizing it always had been like that. Crowley complying, caring, looking after him and treating him whenever he had the opportunity. And it was _sincere_. Crowley was truthful in the way he acted towards him and Aziraphale just…

Crowley turned around, looking at him. “Angel?” He muttered, a bit of worry slipping through his voice.

Aziraphale jumped a little, startled. “Yes?” He breathed out and sensed his skin was tingling. His whole body was tingling.

“You coming or…?” He asked, standing in the middle of the disaster, seeming a bright rose in the middle of a dry field. Aziraphale’s heart soared even more.

“Y-Yes, I-I just…” He stuttered, finally taking his eyes away from him, trying to fix them anywhere else, and took a step to advance towards him.

The rubble around him was unstable and he stumbled, feet clumsy, knees giving out at last. He thought he’d actually collide against the floor this time, and braced himself for it in the infinitesimal moment between falling and crashing. However, two hands grabbed him, supporting his weight and straightening him before any of that could happen. Aziraphale gasped, blushing furiously, and sensed the tight but gentle grip of the demon on him.

“Angel,” Crowley said, a little alarmed. “Are you alright?”

Aziraphale straightened, sensing his lungs blocked, his body shaking more at the closeness of Crowley, and he opted not to look at him directly, telling himself it was because he was embarrassed. “Yes, yes. Quite, actually,” he rushed to say, but ended up producing an unsure babble.

He could sense Crowley staring at him cautiously, but didn’t push it. “Let me take you home, come on,” he muttered, taking his hands away. “It’s not safe out tonight and I think you’ve risked yourself enough for today.”

Aziraphale nodded and followed him out, until they stood before a black car parked far enough from the church to avoid any flying rock. Aziraphale recognized it as a Bentley; he’d been seeing a few around London for a few years. Crowley opened one door for him and waited.

“Is it yours?” Aziraphale uttered, surprised, and analysed it further. The truth was that it screamed ‘Crowley’ very loudly.

“Yes,” he answered, a little smirk reaching his lips. “Bought it when it came out.”

Aziraphale had been inside a car just a few times before. It was nice, the vibration and the soft rocking, but nothing life-changing.

“It's beautiful,” the angel decided to say, just because he hadn't seen the demon so proud of owning something specific in a long time. Butall things considered, they hadn't seen each other in a long time.

Aziraphale felt a new stabbing pain crossing his chest at the reminder and hurried to get into the car, just in case some of it had reached his expression. Once he was settled against the seat of the Bentley, he was suddenly enveloped by the demon's scent. It came strongly to him, hitting his senses, fuelling the newborn spark in his chest. He felt even warmer, even softer. More nervous.

"Ready?” Crowley asked, bursting the bubble he was in. Aziraphale jumped a little, startled, and faced his friend, who was again looking at him with concern. “You might want to hold onto something.

"H-Hold?” He stuttered, overwhelmed and confused.

The smirk returned, just a bit, and then Crowley turned on the engine, starting to drive. Aziraphale realised very, very soon, what the demon had meant.

By the moment Crowley parked in front of the bookshop, Aziraphale was sweating cold, holding onto at the handle, eyes wide and terrified of the hellish ride he’d just experienced. He’d be panting, if he was breathing at all.

“Here we are,” Crowley said joyfully, turning off the vehicle and backing on the wheel with both arms, turning to look at Aziraphale.

“ _What the Hell_ …?” Aziraphale mumbled.

“You seem a little shaken, angel,” he muttered, clearly teasing him.

The angel looked daggers at him. “You’re absolutely out of your mind,” he gasped, noticing the trembling in his body. “You could have discorporated us both!”

“Doubt it,” his smile widened.

Aziraphale huffed, pressing a hand against his chest, trying to calm his heart. Crowley didn’t say anything else, silence filling the Bentley when Aziraphale managed to calm his breathing. He glanced at him then, still watching him intently, seeming to hide a little behind his bicep. Even so, Aziraphale knew him like the back of his hand. The demon had the brow slightly furrowed, a line of sweat over his forehead, and seemed to want to bounce his right leg but be holding back the urge. Something was troubling him.

All of a sudden, the nervousness returned to the angel, the weight of their separation hovering over his head once more. The thing between them felt so fragile now, so easy to break completely if he didn’t do the right thing.

“Do you… Want to come in?” Aziraphale mumbled, afraid of asking, but more afraid of letting Crowley go now. “I think I still have something drinkable stored.”

Crowley breathed in. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he answered, tone soft, vulnerable.

He felt as if he’d been slapped. “I think being around with bombs falling all over the city is even worse.”

“ _Now_ you think so?”

Aziraphale remained silent, trying to think of something to do, something to say, good enough to make his friend say. His friend might have been as unsure about the page they were in as he was. “I’d really appreciate it if you came in, even if just for a little while,” Aziraphale almost whispered.

The demon kept staring at him, silent, for a long moment, hiding behind his tinted glasses, the darkness and his arm. “Fine,” he said, eventually, relaxing his posture and backing away from the wheel. “One drink.”

When Crowley opened his door to get out of the car, Aziraphale felt himself brimming with relief. He got out too and they both walked to the door, getting inside the bookshop.

“You’ve barely changed a thing,” Crowley scoffed, looking around.

Just to keep the mood light, Aziraphale opted not to say anything about that. He left the bag on the floor and hung up his coat and hat, waited for Crowley to hand his. It took a moment for him to notice Aziraphale’s silent offer, as if he wasn’t used to polite and uninterested gestures. The angel felt a sudden and light ache in his chest at the thought, grabbing Crowley’s jacket once he’d taken it off. He handed his hat over too and Aziraphale contained a sound of amusement at the sight of his hair. Crowley hadn’t had it so short since Rome, he was sure of that. It looked soft, long enough to bury the tip of his fingers, but not to grasp.

Aziraphale caught himself at such thought, feeling his face heat up as if set on fire. Quickly, he hung everything on the rack, turning around and worrying at his lip, trying not to overthink.

“Get comfortable, my dear. I’ll be back in a jiffy,” he said, not looking directly at Crowley, and directed his steps to the cabinet where he stored his wine.

He heard Crowley’s cautious steps, the soft thud of his slim body hitting the sofa as the demon dropped himself over it. Aziraphale fumbled with the tumblers, inspected the bottles as if he urgently needed too, feeling too hot and nervous to just come back so quickly.

He was very sure he was just distressed because they hadn’t talked in a long time, because he wasn’t sure how things were between them. All things considered, he was fairly certain that they were still friends. Crowley wouldn’t have had a reason to come to save him, if that wasn’t the case. Or, maybe, he still needed Aziraphale’s help. Maybe he was trying to put the Arrangement in motion again.

Aziraphale tried to swallow down the bitterness that settled on his tongue, tried to think this was just _them_ , just another night of drinking and talking. Even so, there was still that ache in his heart, one he couldn’t name, which wouldn’t go no matter what he reassured himself of.

Eventually, he returned, poured wine in both their glasses and gave one to Crowley, still avoiding to look at him and not knowing why he was. The demon hummed, the closest thing to a ‘thanks’ he would give to Aziraphale, and then he settled on his chair across the sofa. They took a sip at the same time, immersed in the darkness, just a few weak rays of moonlight slipping through the closed curtains, illuminating the place.

“‘M surprised you haven’t put your books in the shelves yet,” Crowley muttered. “Left them to gather dust on the floor.”

Aziraphale blinked, looked directly at him, finding a pair of shiny and serpentine eyes examining him, two bright lights in the shadows. The demon even looked predatory, dangerous; if Aziraphale didn't know better, he might have been scared, even. Maybe he was, just a little. Still uncertain why, although.

“Oh,” he muttered, swallowing the knot in his throat. “I will, later.”

“Don’t let my presence stop you, angel,” Crowley added, taking another sip, eyes never leaving him.

“That’s not…” He started, cleared his throat, felt even hotter under the collar. In response, he just sighed.

Crowley arched a brow. “You okay? You aren’t hurt, are you?” He asked, clearly trying to be casual but not able to hide the worry completely.

Aziraphale straightened his pose, moved in his seat, uncomfortable. “Oh, no,” he rushed to assure, tittering. “I’m quite alright. It’s just...”

He sighed again, deflating, and Crowley seemed to gaze at him with profound care, even if the glasses were blocking almost all of his expression. Aziraphale felt the ache growing, the sight of the demon there, as if nothing had happened at all, as if they did this every Friday, no matter if a War or a Flood was falling upon them. Crowley seemed to belong there. The space where he splayed was empty, if not filled with his chaotic energy, his snarls and long limbs.

“It’s been a long time,” he mumbled, dropping his eyes to his glass, its content swaying, his hands trembling. “Since… You know.”

“Uh… I-I guess,” Crowley said, sinking more in the sofa and passing a hand through his short hair.

“Have you… Been alright?” He hesitated to ask, even if he desperately needed to know.

“Yeah, I suppose. Same as always,” the demon answered, his tone strange, confusion pouring through it, filling the space between them.

“I’m glad,” he sighed, taking another sip, trying to gather enough courage. “Crowley, you must know that I didn’t mean…”

“‘S fine,” he cut him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

Aziraphale pouted, swallowing down his aborted apology, feeling a displeasing knot forming. He wanted Crowley to hear that he was sorry, that he didn’t mean anything he’d said. Well, except about the bit of the holy water.

Deep in thought, it took him a couple of minutes to realise Crowley seemed more fidgety than usual. However, his movements were strange, tainted with a discomfort that didn’t seem postural.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale gasped when he found the reason at last, looking at his feet and then to his face, panic raising in his chest. “You’re hurt, right? You’ve hurt your feet!”

Crowley’s mouth was slack for a moment, an unintelligible sound escaping him. “‘M fine. You don’t need to…”

But it was too late. Aziraphale was already swirling down into a spiral of guilt and urgency. Putting his glass aside, he stood up quickly, approaching Crowley.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” Aziraphale scolded him, although it came out like a complain, one sad and full of worry. When he opened his mouth to continue, hands fidgeting before him, the shame took over. “ _Oh_. I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have come.”

It was very difficult to figure Crowley’s expression with so much darkness and with the barrier of his glasses, firmly tucked against his face. However, Aziraphale observed how the demon gaped for an instant, before managing to chock out some sound.

“Really, I’m _fine_ ,” he assured, straightening his posture against the backrest, pushing himself up. “They just itch a little.”

Aziraphale scoffed, furrowing at him. Crowley always did that. Every time he’d been in pain whenever Aziraphale was near, he dismissed it and made it seem like nothing, even if he was profusely bleeding out. It annoyed him, although maybe was something in his demonic nature, to not let his enemy know of his weak state.

That thought made the knot in his throat tighter. Crowley was his enemy. But they never had acted like they were and Aziraphale didn’t want to start now. He couldn’t say it aloud, what Crowley was to him. Couldn’t, foremost, because it was to complicated to put into words.

However, he was certain that seeing him in pain was something he wouldn’t tolerate another second. Not thinking much, he dropped on his knees, careful not to damage the fabric of his trousers.

“Let me see,” Aziraphale asked, gently.

Crowley shrunk, gaping again. “Aziraphale, _get up_ , c’mon,” he snarled.

Aziraphale furrowed more. “Don’t be childish,” he actually scolded him now. “You’ve got hurt to get me out of trouble. This is the least I can do.”

“ _I’m fine_ ,” he repeated roughly and Aziraphale kept giving him a stern look. Crowley huffed in exasperation, bending over to rip his shoes and socks off without care, clearly trying to hold back the pain, but wincing anyway. Once barefoot, Aziraphale realised there was no wound on them. “See? Nothing.”

Before Crowley could cover his feet again, Aziraphale grabbed one of them by the ankle, gently, and the demon yelped, going completely still. Aziraphale wasn’t expecting any wound, considering the harm was made by the holiness of the floor. Which would be even more complicated for Crowley to heal. He’d have to wait for days until it receded and that made Aziraphale even more anxious, to think of him hurting for days.

Ever so softly, Aziraphale held one of his feet between his hands, feeling the tingle of holy power over the demon’s skin. A pang of sorrow filled him, noticing the amount of holiness gathered there. Crowley had to be in a lot of pain.

With a minor miracle, he caressed his skin, rubbing softly, applying pressure if needed, from his plants to his ankle. The holiness faded slowly and Crowley was very quiet, but a few sounds of relief escaped him.

After a few minutes, Aziraphale finished his task, all trace of holy power having left Crowley’s corporation. He sighed deeply, breaking his concentration, gazing up to the silent demon.

“Does it hurt now?” He asked and it took Crowley a second to shake his head, once, slowly. “Not even a bit?”

“No,” he whispered, voice strangled.

“Good,” Aziraphale mumbled, checking his feet again, just in case.

Tension and concentration gone, Aziraphale noticed then how soft Crowley’s skin was, how warm. He rubbed his thumb over his ankle, slipping slightly under the fabric of his trousers, the softness and the feeling of his hair there making a shiver run down his spine. Crowley was healed. There was no reason to continue having his hands on the demon. He could let go.

He noticed that, even if freed from panic, he was sweating still. Something in him felt agitated again, his heart bouncing wildly. He could feel his breath shake, his face filling with a heat that wasn’t displeasing, but warm, evolvent. There was a bright sensation covering his hands, the hands that had touched Crowley, as if he was wearing a pair of invisible gloves made of sparks.

Aziraphale didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to take his hands away from Crowley. He wanted to let his fingers wander more, touch more of his skin. He wanted Crowley there, wanted to alleviate everything that could hurt. He wanted to stand up, sink his hands on his short hair, kiss his mouth.

The realisation hit him, felt like a brick falling over his head. He took a shaky breath, looked at Crowley, not able to mask his surprise.

“What?” Crowley asked, furrowing.

Aziraphale gaped. No words came out. There was just soft skin between his palms, warmness all over his body, and a wild, knowing heartbeat.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley tried again, concerned. Before Aziraphale’s lack of response, Crowley launched forward a little, sitting over the edge of the sofa. “Angel,” he said, now with concern. “What is it?”

He tried to say something. He really did, trying to soothe the panic raising inside Crowley, spilling out of him without barrier.

“ _Angel_.”

“Uh… I-I’m alright, dear,” he mumbled, letting go of him and standing up, instantly feeling his legs wobbly, his hands shaky.

The shock had to be written all over his face, since Crowley kept staring at him with concern, but didn’t try to argue the angel’s assurance. Instead, he looked down, finished his drink and put on his socks and shoes, utterly silent.

“Right,” he sighed, his voice sounding worn all of a sudden, and rose from the sofa, still not raising his gaze to Aziraphale. “‘M gonna get going now.”

Those words shook Aziraphale out of his state, giving him a sensation of dread that made his blood freeze. However, he didn’t know if it was wise to make him stay any longer. The only thing he felt he could do was collapse on his chair for a week and not move a single muscle.

“Oh,” Aziraphale just muttered.

Crowley nodded once and slowly dragged himself to the door. He followed him, feeling as if pulled by an opposite magnet, and continued looking at the demon, transfixed, while he put on his jacket and hat.

“Well… See you around, I guess,” Crowley said, opening the door. “And, for Satan’s sake: no more spy adventures.”

Aziraphale emitted a non-committal sound, still paralysed. Something dark seemed to cross Crowley’s expression, but the obscurity didn’t allow him to figure what exactly. The demon just slipped through the door, disappearing. When it was about to close before him, Aziraphale felt a rush of electricity through his body, the horrifying realisation that the demon was actually leaving hitting him. He grabbed the edge, opening it again.

“Crowley, wait,” he called him, unable to hide the desperation in his tone. Crowley, on the other side, finally looked at him. Aziraphale fidgeted, nervous, and gaped, thinking suddenly that his impulse might be a very bad idea. However, he was feeling torn open, unable to contain all he was feeling with supreme success. “When… When this ends, this war…” He started, swallowing down, trying to soothe the dryness of his throat. “Would you… I mean… I would like to…” He furrowed, huffed, frustrated. “What I’m trying to say is that I would appreciate it if you let me know you’re alright.”

The demon examined him, silent, for a while; then, one of the corners of his mouth raised, slightly.

“Okay,” he only said, before turning around and getting in his Bentley, driving away.

Once he was out of his sight, Aziraphale held onto the threshold, a hand on his chest, wild heartbeat unleashed completely. He felt his eyes blurred, his mind spinning with the certainty that he was in very big trouble.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


Maybe it shouldn’t have been such a surprise, to realize he’d fallen in love with Crowley.

The next years were very lonely, gave him too much time to think of his feelings, of loss and destiny. It just had been so slow, so gradual… He couldn’t point out in which moment his feelings for the demon had changed. He couldn’t even point out in which moment he started seeing him as a friend either. Everything with Crowley always had flowed naturally, every change coming smooth and easy. He overthought them, once he was alone, of course; Crowley was still a demon, still his hereditary enemy. He hadn’t forgot about the risk that was having a demonic acquittance. Nevertheless, after their last argument, after thinking he’d never get his old friend back, the strength to keep so many barriers between them had worn out.

Aziraphale, at first, was overjoyed with the feeling, but, as he thought more about it, more dangerous it felt, more forlorn himself. Befriending a demon was already forbidden, loving him unimaginable. Falling in love… It wasn’t even on the table. It couldn’t happen. He wasn’t even sure it could be reciprocated. Crowley cared for him; that was for sure. He’d never felt the demon was using or manipulating him. Crowley certainly considered him as a friend. But love was a huge thing, one that had been ripped from all the Fallen angels. Although Crowley was different from the rest, could be kind and gentle, he wasn’t sure he could love that way. And, even if he could, he might not love Aziraphale that way. The thought was horrible, made him think of all the words of wounded lovers written all around him, finally understanding the up and down of emotions being in love came with. The problem was that he couldn’t rely on them for guidance; this was more complicated than enmity between families and class differences.

Besides, if the demon came to love him the same way at some point, Aziraphale couldn’t do a thing either. He couldn’t act on his love. Just the thought of Hell finding out, discovering he could love and, even worse, an angel, he’d be lucky if they just torture him and then threw him to the darkest and most remote pit for eternity. That made Aziraphale shake and sweat cold just at the thought of it. Heaven wouldn’t be happy either, if they ever came to know. He would certainly Fall for consorting with the enemy. He could already see their judging eyes and expressions of disgust, their stern voices. It made his stomach twist.

His love was dangerous.

The war ended and, at the same time, it seemed to do the battle with himself. He had to let Crowley go, push him as far as he could. Cut the root of the problem and the demon would be safe. Aziraphale had shed rivers of tears for the impossible love in his heart, for just finding a way out in ripping Crowley out of his life. He didn’t want to; of course not. If anything, he just wanted to pull him close, closer, until the demon was within him, and never let go. He’d never felt as much of a helpless pawn in the Divine Plan as now. Love was all around. His work was to help it spread. However, he couldn’t love, not the way he wanted to. It didn’t feel fair.

So, he’d be ready to part ways, the next time they met. Or so he repeated to himself, as if to believe it fully. He’d say goodbye, live the rest of his existence with the relief that he wouldn’t condemn his friend to the horror of torture and imprisonment.

It was 1946 already when, one morning, before he opened the bookshop, the door opened under the chime of the bell. Aziraphale turned around, taking his eyes away from the book he was putting in the shelf, startled because he was sure he hadn’t opened the door. His heart seemed to jump out of his chest, bumping with ferocity, when he caught the sight of the demon, smiling softly at him.

“Busy so early?” Crowley greeted him, smirking.

“ _Crowley_ ,” he gasped, breathless.

“The same,” the demon said, approaching him.

He looked absolutely dashing, which wasn’t new, but after those hard years and even more hard ones to come, it made Aziraphale’s whole being tremble.

“I thought… You didn't…” Aziraphale babbled. Then, he turned to Crowley completely, brow creased in worry. “It's been a _year_. I thought something had happened to you.”

“Oh, yeah,” he looked down for a second, taking off his hat. “I've been out of London for a while. Work; you know. Still a lot of mess to meddle with even after the war was over.”

Aziraphale pouted a little, that particular gnawing that had been eating him for those months still weighing in his chest.

“I was worried. You could have sent a letter. Or something,” he complained.

Crowley smirked wider, the need to tease him seeming to burn on the tip of his tongue. However, he seemed to swallow it down. “Well, I was thinking maybe you’d want to have lunch. On me, of course.”

His first instinct was to grin at the demon, say ‘ _yes, absolutely, dear boy_ ’. But, before he could, the weight of the all those last years fell over his head, replacing his cheer with sadness. Crowley was fine; he’d come, just as Aziraphale had asked. And now he had to tell him there won’t be any more lunches, or nights drinking at the bookshop. No more _them_ , whatever that meant.

Aziraphale turned again to face the shelf, feeling his eyes burning already. He swallowed; his throat had gone completely dry.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley muttered and he saw sideways his brow furrowed in worry.

The angel breathed in. He’d gone through this thousand of times in his head. He could do it. “Actually,” he started, trying to keep his voice steady. “I… There’s something I need to tell you.”

A beat. “Go on, then,” the demon murmured and Aziraphale almost winced at the clear tone of suppressed concern.

“W-Would you mind if we went for a walk?” He asked. They couldn’t stay there; the bookshop felt too oppressive suddenly, too tainted with memories of him to push him out, as if he didn’t belong. He needed to do this outside, where he could let it all out and walk away. It was the plan of a coward, but he didn’t think he could do it otherwise. “St. James Park, maybe?”

Crowley tensed visibly and he realised he hadn’t chosen right. The last time they had been there, they argued and parted in a way that felt definitive. Aziraphale wasn’t sure he could stand taking one step in that place without betraying himself, completely aware this was a definitive farewell indeed. Maybe it didn’t matter much.

“Fine,” Crowley said, although there was an obvious tightness in his voice.

Aziraphale gave him a nod, not looking at him. “Give me a minute,” he asked, and started to arrange everything to go out. Before joining Crowley again, Aziraphale put on his coat and slipped a letter in its inner pocket, a letter that had rested inside one of his table’s drawers for a year. He hoped he needn’t use it, in the end; but if things went really pear-shaped, he wouldn’t have a choice.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


The walk was tense to an extreme that made Aziraphale felt about to break. He could hear Crowley’s inner workings screeching, trying to figure out what was about to come. Aziraphale knew him; knew that, at some point, Crowley would drop the damned question. He wouldn’t be able to help it, the uncertainty and curiosity gnawing at him. Aziraphale felt guilty for letting this stretch unnecessarily, but he couldn’t help it; if he could scratch a few more seconds with him, he would.

“Alright,” Crowley said, stopping and turning to him, once they reached the pond. He wasn’t sure if the demon had stopped here on purpose or not, but it was a bit ironic. “What’s going on?.”

A wave of panic shook him. He gaped, writhing with his hands on his front. Everything he’d practised fled from his mind, leaving him completely blank. His heart was thumping wildly, as if protesting about the thing he was about to do. He didn’t want to push Crowley away. But he _must_. He tried to conjure all of the horrible things that could happen to him, if Aziraphale kept him at reach. He tried to conjure the consequences: tortured, vanished from extended under a splash of holy water, _gone_ forever, suffering.

He gulped, turned towards the pond. “I’ve… I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice weaker than he pretended. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that… That, _this…_ This has to stop.”

“What’s _this_?” Crowley asked. However, by his tone, it was clear that he already knew.

Aziraphale hesitated. He could still change the subject, say another thing. But he didn’t. “The… Arrangement and… Everything, really. We shouldn’t keep seeing each other.”

Finally, it was out and seemed to have torn his chest wide open. He sensed the urgent need to cry burning inside him.

Crowley was silent for a long while. Aziraphale was nervous, wanted to look at him but wasn’t brave enough. He’d thought the demon would argue right away, would be angry. But he was still, silent.

“Why?” He finally muttered.

“Because it’s dangerous,” Aziraphale answered, adjusting his waistcoat, feeling oppressed by it, as if it was made of metal all of a sudden. “You wouldn’t have asked me for… For holy water, if it wasn’t.”

“That’s it?” Crowley grunted and let out a sigh of tiredness. “Look, you said no. That’s all, okay? There’s no need to bring that again.”

“But you haven’t forgotten about it,” Aziraphale said sternly. “You still wanted it, during the Blitz.”

Crowley growled again. “Aziraphale, this is stupid,” he stated, although he sounded more desperate than angry. “You’re telling me that you want to stop everything just for a fucking argument? How many times have we argued? _Thousands._ And we still…” He stopped himself, huffing.

“Well, maybe I’m tired of arguing,” Aziraphale mumbled, lying outrageously. He’d rather argue with him forever than having him away. “And it’s not because we argued. It’s because we shouldn’t even be here, together. We’re hereditary enemies. And it’s dangerous for both of us to keep ignoring what can’t be changed.”

“Again with _that_ ,” he whined. “I told you they won’t kn…”

“ _Crowley_ ,” he said, a little louder, a little rougher, cutting him off. “It is _my_ decision. I want you to keep your distance. From now on. I’m not doing this anymore.”

For once, he wanted to be the one to have his eyes covered. Keeping his emotions at bay was turning out a titanic effort. All he wanted was love him, in any way he could; instead, he was doing quite the opposite. But Crowley would never walk away if he wasn’t firm.

“And why now?” He snarled. “Why have you never smitten me on sight if you’re so worried about this being dangerous? Why have you let it happen, if you hate me that much?”

Aziraphale gasped, turned around and faced him by pure instinct. “I don’t hate you,” he argued, outraged. “And I would never smi…”

“Fucking finally you’re looking at me,” Crowley huffed, relieved, and approached Aziraphale a little bit more. He wanted to recoil, but was still processing the demon had tricked him into being face to face. _Fiend_. “So, what’s the truth? Why are you doing this?”

“Wh-What?” Aziraphale babbled, frozen by having Crowley so close.

He put his hands into his pockets, retiring his jacket enough to let his suspenders show. Aziraphale felt cold sweat beading on his nape, a hot feeling coiling in his stomach.

“You haven’t seen those wankers for thousands of years now. I’d be surprised if they even take a look at your reports,” Crowley snickered, nonchalant. “So, this has to have another reason.”

“I’ve told you,” he muttered, breathless.

“And you haven’t told me the truth,” the demon declared, a bit of anger slipping through his tone. “Give me a good enough reason and I promise you’d never see my face again.”

Aziraphale was profusely trembling now. He had suspected Crowley might catch him on his half-truths; he knew him, after all, now matter how annoying that was sometimes. He’d have to use his last card, scare him off.

As he got the letter out of his coat, he’d felt how it hurt that this could disgust or scare Crowley enough to keep him away. Just explain, give it to him and flee; he didn’t have to even see his expression. He couldn’t have stood it, if he was honest. He looked at the perfect envelope, with Crowley’s name written with blue ink, shinning under the soft sunlight. His hands were shaking and he could feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. This was it.

“I’m… Sorry, Crowley. I never thought… Something like this could happen but, considering the situation,” he took a shaky breath, “I thought it was best for us to part. I don’t want to bother you or make you uncomfortable. Probably, you’ll laugh. I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

He turned to him, sniffling, and handed the letter over. He couldn’t see Crowley’s eyes much, but they were wide. Tentatively, the demon grabbed the letter and looked at it. Before he could open it, finger already over the wax seal, Aziraphale stopped him.

“No! Wait!” He whined and Crowley did, looking up again, even more startled. “Just… Just read it when I’m gone. And, if you’re so kind, please: destroy it later. You want the truth, but it’s too dangerous to keep it written. For both our sakes.”

“What the hell have you written here?” Crowley said, sounding breathless. A little bit scared, too.

“You’ll see. Just… I just wanted to say goodbye, before you read it.”

“Are you actually leaving?”

“Yes, I am,” he closed his eyes tightly for a second, needing to keep his tears controlled. He took a deep breath, glanced at Crowley for the last time. “Take care, dear boy. It’s been… An interesting few millennia with you.”

Crowley’s lips parted, his brow furrowed. Aziraphale noticed the forlornness written in his expression and he hurried before it broke him right there.

“Goodbye, Crowley.”

And he turned his back at him, started to walk quickly, trying to get far from him as fast as possible. When he reached the bookshop, he closed the door behind him with a thud and tears flowed down his cheeks almost immediately. He couldn’t hold back it anymore, the rush of hopelessness and sadness invading him. And he cried. He cried, feeling more alone than ever.

He dragged himself to his chair, dropping himself there and bawling his eyes out. For certain, there had to be something breaking in his chest. It hurt so much he thought he was about to discorporate, but he couldn’t point exactly where it did.

The letter explained everything. He’d talked, with love and sorrow in his heart, for almost three pages, about his feelings for him. He’d told him how deeply in love he was, how much he yearned for them to be real, the way human lovers were. He cried in words that he knew it couldn’t be reciprocated —which was fine, really—, and that he was sorry, because he knew these feelings were dangerous for both of them, and that the best thing was to take different paths. He’d pleaded Crowley to stay away, to forgive him for his inconvenient infatuation. He’d thanked him for everything and hoped he’d be alright.

Even so, the thought of having to say goodbye to Crowley was resulting to be almost unbearable. He’d have to learn to conform himself with the thought that the demon would be safe thanks to this sacrifice.

For now, he just wanted to cry.

Obviously, he didn’t expect the door of the bookshop opening abruptly, startling him, making him gasp and raise his head from his wet hands. The door closed with a rough thud and, then, he’d heard a series of rushed steps. He was frozen suddenly, terrified, knowing for certain who was the intruder.

Crowley came into vision a fraction of a second later. Someone else would have seen a very angry and determined demon. Aziraphale just saw his best friend, shaken, probably as terrified as he was. He hadn’t time to even mutter his name, before Crowley spoke.

“Did you mean it?” He demanded, striding until he reached Aziraphale. He stopped abruptly, raising his brows in surprise.

Aziraphale, ashamed for more than the state he was in, dried his tears and avoided his eyes. He hadn’t thought Crowley would come, after all. He hadn’t thought anything else would be necessary after the letter. He hadn’t thought he’d have to face Crowley after him knowing the truth.

“ _Angel_ ,” he sighed, the concern echoing in his voice, impacting against Aziraphale’s chest like a dagger. Pity was even worse than anger.

“I told you not to come,” Aziraphale managed to say.

“ _To Hell with_ _that_ ,” Crowley grunted, ripping his glasses off and placing them over the table, so roughly he didn’t know how he hadn’t broken them. Aziraphale didn’t dare to look into his exposed eyes, too afraid of what he could find there. “You can’t drop something like this and tell me to bugger off for good.”

“And what do you want me to do?” Aziraphale muttered miserably. “It’ not… Like I can do anything to change it.”

“So you meant it.”

Aziraphale turned to him, disappointed by such implication. Crowley was watching him with a cryptic expression, seeming to be waiting. “Of course, I meant it,” Aziraphale stated, angry.

Crowley stared at him, silent, for longer than Aziraphale could stand. However, he kept his eyes fixed on him, seeing how the yellow in his eyes expanded, how his pupils dilated.

“You actually do?” Crowley whispered, his tone so vulnerable it made Aziraphale shudder. “Feel that way about… _Me_.”

Aziraphale nodded, unsure about Crowley’s behaviour.

“But… Are you _sure_?” The demon remarked, his eyes completely yellow now.

“For goodness’ sake, Crowley,” Aziraphale whined, trying to recoil even with his chair keeping him trapped there. “I’ve told you already.”

The demon closed his mouth, silent again. Then, his lips started to twitch into a crooked smile. He rose his hands, digging the palms of them in his eyes, and started to laugh. It was a strange laugh. Sounded like relief, like happiness, but also very maniac, very desperate. Aziraphale received this like a punch on his stomach, offended, feeling mocked.

Nevertheless, when Crowley discovered himself again, his eyes were teary too, and this bitter sensation slipped from Aziraphale. Confused, he saw how Crowley smiled at him, almost teasingly.

“I thought… You really had figured me out decades ago but… Apparently not,” he snickered.

“What?” Aziraphale muttered.

Crowley gulped, his expression more serious now. He closed his eyes, rubbed them with his fingertips, and a little blush crept up to his cheeks.

“I also… You know… Feel that way about you,” he struggled to say.

It sounded so strange, so utterly impossible, that Aziraphale thought he was dreaming for a moment. Petrified, he waited, waited for the bubble to burst, for the dream to vanish. When it didn't, he denied it and he was angry. He couldn't believe Crowley was toying with him like this. Or maybe he was being merciful with him, having pity on the poor, besotted angel.

“Don't mock me, Crowley,” he said without air in his lungs, wanting to scold him but just able to plead.

“What the…? I'm not!” He screeched, giving him a stern look.

“Demons can't… Do that,” he turned his head around, fixing his eyes on the table.

“Who says? Those dickheads Upstairs?” Crowley scoffed. Aziraphale winced. “'Course. Right. Well, maybe they don't. Maybe I'm the only one.”

Aziraphale didn't think he could feel more miserable. He was wrong. “Stop it now,” the angel said in a low, dragged voice.

“I'm telling you the truth!” Crowley blurted out, desperate, gesticulating. “Why don't you believe me? When have I lied to you?”

He felt his tears pooling in his eyes again. He closed them, hard, trying to hold back how much he wanted to run away.

“Angel, I lo…”

Aziraphale's eyes fluttered open, fixing on the demon. “Don't say it out loud!” He gasped, alarmed, cutting him off.

The demon seemed shaken for a moment. At the next, he dropped his eyes, expression suddenly obscure, looking pained as if he'd received a slap. Aziraphale's heart clenched with guilt.

Crowley nodded. “Right. So, that's it. That's the reason,” he mumbled, his voice sounding far away. “'Kay.”

“My dear…” He whispered pleadingly.

“No, Aziraphale. You're right,” he said, tone flat. “'S for the better. I'd probably taint you, anyway.”

“Crowley, _no_ ,” he whined, getting up and approaching him. “You wouldn't.”

The demon shuddered visibly, but didn't raise his gaze. He loathed to see Crowley sad, since the first time he saw him like that, sitting on a hidden corner of the Ark, hugging a pair of kids sleeping. He had trails of tears shining on his cheeks, the eyes of someone who'd seen pure horror. He looked sad, tired, and just as forlorn as the few kids he had managed to save.

Crowley changed after that.

Before the Flood, there was something innocent about him, something cheerful. He could remember Crowley at the wall of Eden, when they met, smiling openly. It was a very bright smile, one he'd seen for a millennium and, then, with that joy in him, was gone.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Crowley smile in such a sincere way. The demon was more closed and guarded now. And Aziraphale didn't want to be one of the reasons for his suffering.

 _Crowley_ …

Of course, he could love. Aziraphale had seen him love things and humans for almost six thousand years. Maybe… He truly loved Aziraphale too.

For a second, the thought made him immensely happy. Then, the consequences of Crowley loving him back weighed even more than before.

“I trust your word,” Aziraphale almost whispered, adjusting his bowtie, tugging at his waistcoat. “I trust… You're telling me the truth.”

Crowley, tentatively, looked up. _Oh_. Aziraphale wanted to cry at the tenderness of the demon's eyes. He breathed in, backing against the table behind him, and kept his serpent-like eyes on him.

“Since the Blitz, huh?” Crowley muttered, almost smirking. “Didn't think it'd cause such an impact.”

Aziraphale blushed. “Well…”

“Eden,” he said then, ever so softly, and tilted his head. “Kinda.”

It took a second for Aziraphale to realise what that meant. When he did, he breathed in raggedly. Crowley pressed his lips onto a thin line, uncomfortable, looking at anything else for a moment. _Oh_ , how he wanted to kiss him senseless right then, trap him in an embrace and never let go of him.

“Oh, my dear…” He sighed, not knowing how to process all that information.

“No, no. Don't look at me like that,” he growled.

“I'm not looking at you in any way,” Aziraphale said, knowing it was most probably a lie.

“Yeah, you are. You're giving me… Those shiny eyes.”

Aziraphale tittered. Before the situation collapsed on him again, he offered Crowley a drink and he accepted. He poured them both a glass and they collapsed on their respective spots. They drank in silence for a while.

“You still want me to go?” Crowley mumbled then, miserable. “For good, I mean.”

Aziraphale's heart cracked, realising how hurtful that had truly been, now he knew what the demon felt. “I've never wanted that,” he answered, out of breath. “But…”

“You still think it's the best,” he finished for him, lapidary.

A beat. “I'm afraid it is.”

“Even if we never said it? Even if we never did anything about it?” Crowley asked, pleading, torn in a way Aziraphale had never witnessed before.

“Yes,” he declared with something close to a whimper, his voice cracking.

Crowley nodded, breathing in roughly, finishing his drink with a large gulp. “ _Really_. 'M not… Gonna push on this, but… _Fuck_.”

“You have to understand that it would be too hurtful,” Aziraphale claimed. “Do you really could go on as if… As if nothing had changed?”

“But nothing actually has,” he stated at him, furrowing. “Nothing has to, anyway. And I don't need this to change. I can fucking live with this. I'm…” He started to bounce his leg, stressed, desperate. “I don't need anything else but this.”

Aziraphale didn't know what to say. He was choked by dread, felt lucky and wanted to scold Crowley for accepting to receive nothing at all.

“What’s unbearable for me is knowing you want more. Like… Like humans do this,” he declared, huffing, a broken smile on his lips, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “And you’re still telling me to go.”

His cheeks burned. He remembered all he’d written there. Maybe it had gotten a little out of hand with how much he wanted the demon. When he was writing it, he thought that if he were to be honest, why not be so completely.

“That’s why I can’t pretend it’s totally fine for me. It’s like kneeing me on the stomach, that’s what it is,” he emptied the glass, drinking the rest of its content angrily. With a wave of panic, he witnessed how Crowley stood up from the sofa, left the cup on the table. “And don’t say this is for my sake, ‘cause it isn’t.”

“Of course, it is!” Aziraphale whined, offended.

“No,” Crowley snarled, furious. “It’s because you don’t want to disappoint your lot. Because you don’t want God to know. And you know what?” He approached him, backed his hands on the armrests of the chair and leaned over Aziraphale, a little menacingly. “I don’t want that either. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because of me.”

“My dear, I…” He stuttered, shame coiling in his stomach.

“You don’t need to explain,” Crowley continued and Aziraphale couldn’t stand the disappointment that echoed in the demon’s tone. “Nothing new here,” Crowley backed away, freeing him from his towering.

Aziraphale’s vision blurred with new tears. He could see the wounds he’d inflicted on Crowley for six millennia, the new one he’d just cut though him. “There’s no way, Crowley… There’s no way we can…” He whimpered. “I wish there was but… There isn’t,” he declared, not lacking of wounds himself.

“Our respective offices never called us out on the Arrangement,” he snapped with desperation, gesturing with his hands open. _Pleading_ , he realised. “They wouldn’t know. We could go on as we’ve always done. We’ve managed to sort the danger of that. _Ugh_ ,” he grunted, rubbing at his eyes again. “Sorry. I said I wouldn't push it. Forget it,” he sighed, taking his hands away from his face, but didn’t look at him. “If this damned scheme would just fucking stop… I’d give you everything you wanted.”

He’d never seen Crowley so helpless, either. The demon sniffled, apparently tearless, gaze lost in the bookshelves before him.

“I’ll just… Go,” he mumbled, voice weak. “Tho, if you ever… Need something… You know how to find me,” he snapped his fingers, his glasses appearing between his fingers. He put them on, finally looking at Aziraphale, if that’s what he was really doing. “‘S been nice knowing you, Aziraphale.”

So cold, for a definitive goodbye. So hopeless. Aziraphale almost broke into tears right then, seeing the end of everything he most wanted before him. If the whole Universe would just stop, indeed. If they could have a second. If he wasn’t so afraid, they could have each other in every way they truly desired.

But he was scared. He wouldn’t take the risk. Crowley deserved much more, someone who would jump into anything to have him. He deserved that kind of brave love. Maybe he was the one who couldn’t love in the right way; maybe Crowley was the one who was unconditional for real.

When the demon dropped his head in sorrow, started to turn around to leave, all of a sudden Aziraphale saw light in their private obscurity, jumping off his chair. “Crowley, wait!” He pleaded, the idea burning in his mind, bringing him such a huge hope that seemed inflicted by the Almighty Herself. Which, _of course_ , couldn’t be. Could it?

Crowley turned around, not raising his eyes. “It can stop!” Aziraphale gasped, the rush of joy, approaching him. “ _You_ can make it stop!”

The demon looked up, brows arching. He looked confused for a second. Then, his features relaxed and his mouth went slight slack, understanding. However, Aziraphale didn’t expect the wave of sadness that reached Crowley’s face then.

“Angel… I can stop time, yeah; but God will see everything anyway. I don’t have that much power,” he explained.

“Sh-She has to know, already,” Aziraphale said, even though that scared him even more. “If I haven’t Fallen for that…”

“Acting on it it’s completely different,” Crowley stated, taking a step behind and backing against the side of the sofa, energy leaving him completely.

Aziraphale furrowed, fidgeted with his hands on his front. “I thought… I thought you might want too…”

Crowley let out a bitter laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. “ _For fuck’s sake_ … It’s not that I don’t want to, c’mon; thought that was pretty obvious. ‘S just that…” he breathed out. “I can hide us from Heaven, for a while. But it could be dangerous anyway… What if I make you Fall for… _you know_? What if I destroy you? Angel, demon… Who knows what reaction that could make.”

For the first time in that day, Aziraphale had an ounce of bravery, of hope. “That risk, I’m ready to take. If you are, as well.”

With a growl, Crowley lowered his head, hugging himself harder. He could hear his brain screeching with effort, see his body shaking slightly. Then, he rose one of his hands, snapping his fingers. Aziraphale felt the shift in reality, the utter silence that it preceded, the stillness. Time had stopped.

His heart galloped, seeing Crowley straighten his posture, taking off his glasses and leaving them somewhere on the sofa. The demon fixed his eyes on him, yellow to the very edges, pupils dilated with nervousness, glassy with emotion.

“I’ll have whatever you want to give me,” Crowley answered, honesty and love flowing out of him, and approached Aziraphale.

The angel felt his chest gathering tension, his legs getting wobbly, his skin hot, covered with sweat and want and yearning. He was dizzy with possibilities, with things he now could do and never thought possible. Crowley was very near now, barely a few inches away, face to face. Aziraphale smelt his scent, sensed his heat, his breath on him, and sighed brokenly, feeling a pull inside him, an urge that screamed him to throw himself at the demon. He’d never felt too out of control and, for once, he didn’t mind it.

“And I’ll return it with anything you wish,” he continued, voice low and dangerous in how weak it made Aziraphale.

He looked at Crowley’s eyes, then at his lips, and did it all over again. His own mouth watered and tingled, wanting the demon’s on him with urgency. Crowley let out a puff of air, furrowing with a tinge of desperation, and looked at the space between them. Slowly, cautious, he rose a hand to search for Aziraphale’s, ever so gently touching the tips of his fingers with his own. Aziraphale looked too, gasping, feeling his body growing hotter. He wanted to cry at how soft and electric his fingers felt, tracing their way up without rush, reaching his palm, lowering again. He whimpered, his hand following Crowley’s as they interlaced them, holding each other with carefulness, as if they were teasing the waters, knowing if they could burn each other out of existence now.

Aziraphale realised he wasn’t afraid of that, as Crowley untangled his fingers, kept touching the skin of his hand until reaching the skin of his wrist, ripping another whine from him. He was afraid of the demon not touching him at all, of an eternity of not feeling a single second of that love. And he was still scared of this they were just starting, of the consequences they could face for it.

However, he wanted Crowley to stay, trust him, trust he thought they could solve this together and have, at least, some of the things they wanted. Aziraphale knew this wasn’t a complete solution; this just gave them time to be more open, to do things they couldn’t do in a world that kept spinning. They just could be together in a timeless space, real but in the way dreams are: happening inside private bubbles, vanishing when the reality starts its rhythm again.

Although he couldn’t think of this now. All he could think was the way Crowley was so near him, touching him so gently, unsure but honest. And how much he wanted this moment to be everything for them, just in case all went pear-shaped. He wanted to remember this, if darker times came upon them; remember the demon loved him, harder than any other being could.

Crowley put both his hands on his forearms, caressing through the clothes. Aziraphale sighed, holding onto his biceps, breathing raggedly. He was aflame under his touch, trembling just as much as Crowley’s hands were. They somehow fell into each other’s arms, weakened, needing to hug close, keep safe. Aziraphale rested his chin on Crowley’s shoulder, gripping at the back of his jacket; Crowley sunk his face on his neck, moaning softly, almost whining, and constricted him with his arms. They’d never hugged like that, hadn’t touched each other so much. Now, it felt relieving and hurtful at the same time, the stiffness of two souls that had been denying the need of the other since the start of times.

“You can’t imagine how many times I imagined this,” Crowley muttered desperately against his neck, making him shudder. “How many times…”

“ _Crowley_ ,” he cried softly and the demon hugged him harder.

“I’ll do anything you need,” he promised with a rough tone, the tone of a supplicant, about to fall on their knees to ask for clemency. “I’ll do anything to make you stay.”

Aziraphale’s eyes blurred with tears and he gasped, in disbelief this was real. Crowley backed away, much to his dismay, although just enough to look at him with eyes just as watery.

“Ask me,” the demon sighed. “Ask me what you need, or want. Set the pace of this.”

He gaped for a second, trying not to break right there. “My darling…”

Crowley whined, brow creased at the rush of absolute love that reached his face. Aziraphale didn’t know how had he dared to question the demon loved him, even if for a second. “Y-Yeah?” Crowley mumbled, patient.

“Please… _Please_ , kiss me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI EVERYONE! <3
> 
> I've had this idea since May, at least. I thought I'd come around to writing it sooner but... Life. Anyway, I'm so happy that I've had enough time to start it finally! I'm really excited about it and I hope you like it too. About updates, I think I'll be updating every two weeks, if I've enough time. 
> 
> Btw, I'm on [Tumblr](http://nuria-schnee.tumblr.com/) if you want to drop by!
> 
> See you soon! <3


	2. imaginary friend, stay with me 'til the end now

A complicated feeling crossed Crowley’s gaze after his words, too heavy and tangled for him to decipher. However, Aziraphale could sense the demon wanted this too, nervousness and eagerness written in all of him. He was blushing, his fingers clenching and slipping on the back of his waistcoat, and his lower lip trembled.

“Y-You sure?” He breathed out, voice shaky.

“Just… Just if you are,” Aziraphale said, his face heating up too.

Crowley gulped audibly, lips pressed tightly into a thin line. Aziraphale could see the tension of his jaw and neck and wondered how the demon might kiss. He always had pictured he’d kiss with passion, balancing roughness with sensuality, damning with his mouth whoever he kissed. He should be scared, really. He should be terrified of being ravished by a demon and, at least, he should try to put up a fight. Instead, he was there, waiting anxiously to be kissed, to be pulled against the nearest flat surface and let Crowley take everything he wanted.

The thing that was terrifying for him was that Crowley didn’t want to do exactly that.

He had to hold back the surprise that caused him the gentleness of Crowley’s hands, raising to his face through his back, reaching his shoulders and climbing by his neck. He cupped his cheeks, his palms burning hot over his skin, and he almost closed his eyes, melting under the demon’s touch. Crowley let out a shaky breath when Aziraphale tightened his arms around his slim frame, pressing their bodies together, his eyes losing all human resemblance and pupils blowing wide. Now, close as they were, the angel couldn’t discern who was trembling more now, whose body was more aflame.

Crowley leaned over, hands slipping down, just a bit, to rest on the top of his neck, thumbs tracing the edge of his shirt, slipping under the collar to brush slightly against the bow-tie. Aziraphale’s breath hitched and his whole corporation filled with hot shivers and buzzed with nerves, thinking the demon would take his mouth at last. Nevertheless, Crowley kissed his jaw, hovering over the place for a second before pressing his lips against it, making Aziraphale whimper. His lips were the softest, gentler thing that had ever touched him. The demon peppered little kisses all over his face, as his hands rose to cup his cheeks: temple, forehead, nose, eyelids… Meanwhile, Aziraphale tried not to crumble and cry at the reverence the demon was professing to him. A damned thing couldn’t worship, couldn’t be sweet like Crowley was, couldn’t make feel Aziraphale loved like that. Blasphemous as it was, but no less true for it, the angel knew he’d never felt something similar to Crowley loving him, to _him_ loving Crowley... Not comparable to God’s infinite love even.

Maybe this was Her doing, after all. All of Heaven would condemn this, he knew. All of them would look at Crowley as if he was a lost forever into the darkness, an evil being, lacking any light. Oh, _how ashamed_ he was to have thought low of him before. Crowley was no angel, not any more, but there had to be good and divine light in him still. Any of this could not be possible, otherwise.

Crowley backed away a few inches, their noses almost touching, and looked intently into his eyes through his half closed lids. He was breathing raggedly too, the hesitance of taking what was being offered to him clear to Aziraphale. He proceeded to close the space, checking Aziraphale compulsively every time he moved a bit closer, flinching ever so slightly and shaking. Weren’t he so nervous, he’d have smiled: his demon, always giving him a way out, time enough to react and say ‘no’ if he wanted.

But he wanted Crowley to do this, so he stayed put, waited and gave him time. When Crowley realised this, he took a deep breath and closed the distance in the end. His lips brushed Aziraphale’s for a moment, barely touching, before adding just enough pressure to kiss.

Aziraphale whimpered, feeling the softness of Crowley’s mouth over his, an unsure but purposeful touch. Crowley emitted a little moan too, giving the kiss just a bit more of pressure, and all of the air filling his lungs seemed to abandon him at once, freed with a relief that filled the room. Aziraphale’s heart grew three sizes at the sound, his body shaking with pure joy. The hugeness of it overtook him, little sparks of electricity taking over every inch of himself, spiritual and physical. Crowley’s love seemed to bleed out into his very soul, covering him with its golden brilliance, protecting him from any forces trying to keep them apart. 

Never in those six thousand years Aziraphale had been able to feel that. Not like that, anyway. Sometimes, he could feel a certain type of electricity running down his spine in Crowley’s presence, magnetic, like the air before a storm. But not like this… Not so  _clear_ .

Crowley loved him. He could feel it.  _He could_ .

The weight of the revelation, now not only trusted but  _felt_ , cracked open an ancient desperation in the angel, one he never allowed himself to see too much into, not even after admitting his feelings. Aziraphale moaned openly,  _desperately_ , and hugged Crowley harder, gripping at his clothes and growing more anxious, not feeling him close enough. He parted his lips, coercing the demon into kissing him deeper; Crowley, with a keening sound, obliged, moving his mouth with softness, using his tongue almost with shyness, tentative.

“ _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale whined, barely able to get away from the demon’s mouth.

Crowley hummed, kept kissing him, and it was alright: Aziraphale didn’t even know what he wanted to say; not now, at least, with Crowley kissing him, lips wet and soft and  _warm_ . And so, so loving.

They were shaking, holding onto the other not just for wanting proximity but because, if they let go in that moment, they’d fall apart  for sure . At least, Aziraphale was sure he would. Besides, he wasn’t exactly prepared for stopping that, for not feeling Crowley’s lips on his,  burning off millennia of longing.

However, Crowley pulled away at some point, slowly, and it took another second for Aziraphale to open his eyes and face the flushed demon. A rush of coldness reached him, constricting his insides and feeding his desperation. The demon was clearly trying to keep it together, trying to  get air through his ragged  breathing and contain his  trembling . Even so, he could hide neither his serpentine eyes, now with his pupils almost round and his irises expanded,  nor his furious blush. Aziraphale’s love flared in his chest, vivid with how beautiful Crowley looked then, open and nervous, with his hair a mess and his lips pink and swollen.

Crowley cleared his throat, seemed to want to say something, and Aziraphale watched him, mesmerised and  certain that he was about to do something very forward. The demon continued to struggle, gapping, lower lip trembling and, in the end, Aziraphale felt that absolute yearning, gnawing and tearing him for the insides, spill from his soul into an explosion.

Aziraphale gripped  Crowley’s shirt, cupped his head from behind, and pulled him to his mouth again. Crowley emitted a sound of surprise, but leaned into it anyway, reciprocating with the same eagerness. Aziraphale licked into his mouth, trying to get anything he could, trying to get closer and to receive more of that warm feeling. But it wasn’t enough. Crowley’s mouth felt like a door, cracked open to give him access to the love harboured inside the demon. Nevertheless, he couldn’t cross it. He could sense the limitations of their bodies pushing ones against the others, trying to find  a breach. Aziraphale needed to feel Crowley, in every way, as close as possible.  _Now_ .

“ _Crowley_ ,” he cried softly, between kisses, gripping the demon’s clothes harder, _hating_ there were even clothes to grip at. “Crowley…”

“What?” The demon asked, breathless.

“I…” He swallowed, kissing him again, briefly, before continuing. His stomach filled with nerves and also tingled with a fear that he couldn’t shake off. However, he went on. “Come with me upstairs, _please_.”

Crowley’s breath hitched and then disappeared. He backed away, wide-eyed, staring at Aziraphale with disbelief, the consuming fear inside the angel increasing with an ounce of dread.

“ _Uh_ ,” Crowley just said, gapping again. “A-Angel…”

“It’s… It’s alright if you don’t want to,” he rushed to add, ashamed of his own forwardness. They barely made it there, had just kissed for the first time, and he was already proposing the demon to have sex with him. “I just… I just… I don’t know,” he sighed, desperate, dropping his gaze to Crowley’s chest. “I apologize. I know it’s too soon.”

“Ngk. _No_. I mean,” Crowley mumbled, failing miserably to sound nonchalant. “I was just surprised. If you want to, _y’know…_ ” He grabbed his hand, tentative, interlacing their fingers, and tilting his head towards the stairs. “Lead the way.”

“Really?” He hesitated, raising his eyes to meet the demon’s nervous gaze.

He nodded, gulping. Aziraphale tightened the grip on his hand and turned slowly towards the stairs, dragging Crowley with him, who followed without making a sound, diligent. 

Aziraphale’s mind started to spiral down as they walked up the stairs, what was about to happen sinking in and his fears, only confined into the barriers of his mind until then, started to take form. 

He’d never done this, never felt the urge with anyone but Crowley. There had been opportunities, of course, but he never came to do anything but kissing. Could have but, at the same time, couldn’t, if that made sense. At first, he thought it was because he was an angel, and angels didn’t feel the same ways humans did. Later on, he realised this to be untrue. He felt in a similar way humans felt; if anything, even more intensely. The thing is there was nothing inside him that pushed  him  to lay with humans. Which was fine;  he was satisfied with indulging in the pleasures of the flesh with himself alone.

But…  _Crowley_ . 

It didn’t happen right away,  that urge . The origin of his feelings for the demon was older than this, clawing and burning his insides all the time. It started after they met in Rome, a few years after seeing each other at Golgotha. They dinned and drank together and then Crowley accompanied him to where he was staying, barely able to walk but insisting the streets of Rome weren’t safe at night. Aziraphale let him, not wanting to part so soon and, once they were at his door, he felt a tingling sparkling in his stomach, the need to do  _something_ , but not knowing  _what_ . He just didn’t want Crowley to go. After that, every time he met with the demon, that feeling increased, leaving him confused and  _wanting_ . And very, very warm.

He didn’t figure out what it was until he met him in a royal wedding in England, around the twelfth century. He barely remembered anything from that day besides Crowley in a red  dress , scandalizing but unbearably beautiful. His hair was long again, tied up  in the feminine hairstyle of those times. It was there and then, standing in that  sacred  hall, with the king and the queen marrying, that Aziraphale realised for the first time that what he wanted was dragging Crowley to a dark corner and fuck him against the wall.

It was  _terrifying_ . 

If there weren’t reasons enough to be scared, now he had to fight and hide that as well. The next centuries weren’t easy, always swallowing this yearning, trying to act as he should, and never let show any of it.

But he knew Crowley had taken lovers before. A lot of them, if being precise. He’d caught him seducing them and taking them with him, in more than a few occasions. And they were always sharp and beautiful like him, unafraid and exciting. Aziraphale was none of those things. Taking his clothes off felt impossible, all of a sudden; let Crowley see the softness and the averageness of him. 

Not only he was scared of that. The danger of what they were doing was there too, showing its teeth, not letting him enjoy the moment completely. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to bear it if they hurt each other trying to consummate their love, to give each other pleasure. He wasn’t even sure they could do this without getting caught.

Before he could come up with more depressing thoughts, they were in his bedroom, staring at the bed. There was nothing there but that, covered with a tartan duvet, a couple of nightstands and a  wardrobe . The stilled light of the day entered through the window’s curtains, giving an intimate ambient to the room, between clarity and darkness.

Crowley let go of his hand, inhaling deeply. Aziraphale looked at him,  noticed the tension of his jaw.

“Tartan?” He huffed, voice tight. “A tartan duvet? Where did you even buy this?”

“Didn’t.”

The demon emitted a little laugh. “You’re…  _Ridiculous_ ,” he scoffed and immediately went silent again.

The silence stretched and, with it, Aziraphale’s anxiety. Maybe he was overthinking, but Crowley hadn't made explicit he wanted this, not really. He was trying to gather the words and the courage to say them, when Crowley turned to him, placing a kiss on his temple. Aziraphale turned to him, wide-eyed, just to find the demon looking at him, his eyes, a sea of amber, full of sincerity.

“Tell me what you want,” Crowley said, sounding more sure. “And it’s yours,” he hesitated a little, eyes fluttering closed for a second. “‘M yours.”

All of his doubts fled from his mind in regard to the revived fire in his soul, burning for the demon. He whimpered, overwhelmed for a second, before capturing Crowley’s face between his hands and pushing him down to his lips. Aziraphale devoured his mouth, biting at his bottom lip and licking into it, searching to caress his tongue. Crowley huffed and moaned, leaning into him, raising one of his hands to cup his head and sink  his fingers into his pale curls.

The hunger for Crowley reached unbearable limits. Aziraphale needed Crowley  _now_ or  else he would certainly get consumed by it, annihilated. He tugged at Crowley’s jacket, which the demon discarded right away, falling  to the floor with a soft thud. Aziraphale whimpered, already freeing Crowley from his straps and starting to unbutton his shirt.

It didn’t escape him that the demon wasn’t trying to undress him; he just kissed him with undeniable passion, cupping his cheeks. This sent a spark of doubt through him, but didn’t have time to dwell on it, his knuckles making contact with his naked stomach once the last button slipped free. He backed away to contemplate his chest, his face feeling even hotter than a second before. It had been long since the last time he’d seen Crowley naked and now he could make him  _his_ .

Crowley inhaled, breath shaking, and unbuttoned  the wrists, just to let the shirt fall beside the jacket. Aziraphale’s throat tightened, his lungs closed.

“ _Oh_ , Crowley…” He breathed out, even more love-struck.

The lights and shadows caressed his sharp edges with softness, contrasting and outlining them, and the bright red hair on his chest and belly shone, ever so slightly. He was so very beautiful… Aziraphale just wanted to touch him, so badly.

Crowley made a bit of a face, looking down, and took his fingers to the button of his trousers. A second after, he let them fall too, pooling at his feet, and he got out of them. Taking a breath, he looked up again and Aziraphale felt his heart beating harder, wanting to jump out of his chest. Crowley approached again, raising his hands and curling his fingers on the collar of his shirt, delicate, still unsure.

“Can I?” He asked in a whisper, gazing intently into his eyes.

Aziraphale was still  hypnotised by his image, but managed to nod anyway. With uttermost care, Crowley started to unbutton his waistcoat and slipped it down his arms, not letting it fall away, but folding it and placing it over the bed. Amazed, and unable to talk, Aziraphale let Crowley undress him, observing the delicate movements of his trembling fingers, and how he took care of his clothes in a way he didn’t with his own ones, laying on the floor, crumpled and gathering dust. Once he was just in his underwear, Crowley picked the mount of clothes and took them to one of the nightstands. He stood there, giving his back at him, quiet for a moment before turning around. His intent eyes fixed on him, risked a glance down,  inspecting his body. The angel flushed even more, feeling exposed and vulnerable, afraid of what Crowley could think. Afraid he wouldn’t want him.

However, Crowley took a shuddering breath and returned to where he was. Then, Aziraphale saw he was blushing too and his eyes were shinning with a layer of wetness. The demon rose his hands to his, interlacing them and he could sense his trembling on his own flesh, how hot his skin was, how safe his touch made him feel.

“Dear, I…” Aziraphale muttered, making an effort to stop looking at his lean body and raise his gaze to the demon’s. “May I touch you?”

Crowley gulped, made a strangled noise and nodded, looking away again. The angel took his word, untangling their fingers and raising them to his chest. They’d never touched, not quite like this. He passed his fingertips delicately through his chest, tracing every line, marvelled by how smooth he was under his touch. Crowley whimpered and his breath turned heavy, laboured.

“You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted to touch you,” Aziraphale said, because he could, because he wanted Crowley to know. “Y-You may touch me too, if you want.”

Crowley  nodded , lips tightening into a straight line, before he raised a hand to his neck. The first touch of Crowley’s fingers on his skin sent a hot shiver all over his body, ripping a sigh of him. The demon looked at him with attention, adoration clear in the shine of his eyes. He dared, then, to raise his other hand, placing both of his palms on his chest. Aziraphale whi ned softly , slipping his own hands to the demon’s back, approaching him until their bodies glued together, falling into each other’s arms. Crowley growled, sinking his face on his neck, and Aziraphale closed his eyes, trying not to shake apart at the feeling of the demon’s body against his, perfect and soft and so, so very warm.

The demon sniffled a little, felt his soft hands running up and down his back, his lips tracing the line of his neck, leaving soft kisses and nibbling just  at the right places. Aziraphale bit his lip, unable to hold back the desperate sound that Crowley provoked. He felt Crowley pressing closer to him, hips touching, both their covered erections brushing. The angel gasped at the feeling, a new wave of hotness running all over him. Crowley  grunted too , biting Aziraphale’s earlobe and almost making him crumble, knees going completely weak.

Well, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.

Aziraphale decided to kiss him again, just before letting the weakness in his legs drag him down, slowly, until he was on his knees. Crowley, in the span of a millisecond, realised what his intention was and with something like panic or shock in his face, he grabbed his arms before he could even crouch and kept him standing.

A flash of disappointment went through him and he wanted to ask if he wasn’t into oral sex, but Crowley had already sealed his mouth with his and hugged him hard against him. However, when his mind cleared a little, he managed to break the kiss, just enough to pout.

“Are you… You don’t like oral sex?” Aziraphale huffed, trying to look into his eyes.

Crowley grumbled, looking away for a second, cheeks flushing more. “‘S not that.”

“Then?”

“Don’t want you to kneel,” he said in a rush, voice low. “Doesn’t feel right.”

“My dear, _that’s_ …” He started to protest, frowning. He remembered the way he reacted the night he saved him from the Nazis, when he kneeled to heal him. However, he sighed and let it go. If this made him uncomfortable, he wouldn’t push. He wanted this to feel good for both of them. “Alright.”

The silence stretched between them for a moment, an uncomfortable sensation hovering over their heads. Aziraphale sensed his anxiety swirling inside him again, crawling up to his throat.

“Listen,” he started, unable to keep it inside himself any more. However, he dropped his gaze to the floor, closed his eyes when the sight of Crowley’s body distracted him. “I… I know you have more experience in this. I’m a-aware you’ve take more than a few lovers and I… I actually have never done this so… I’d appreciate it if you, that is… Guided me a little?” He said, unsure and not knowing if he was making an absolute fool of himself. Maybe he was presenting himself to be even more unappealing now.

When Crowley stayed still and didn’t make a single sound, Aziraphale looked at him, unsure and afraid of what he could find in his face. Apparently, utter shock. He frowned.

“Dear?” Aziraphale muttered.

“You’re kidding,” he huffed, although still very still, very shocked.

“I’m _not_.”

“Not even with that dickhead, Oscar?” Crowley almost growled.

“Of course not!” Aziraphale denied, now shocked himself.

“And Burbage!”

“No!”

“A-And… That- _That scriber_ in Mesopotamia!”

“Have you kept a list?” Aziraphale felt himself redden even more, not knowing if he was embarrassed or angry or both.

“You _went_ to a gentleman's club,” he screeched. 

“Just to dance! _Really_ ,” he breathed out, pouting and looking away. “I thought you wouldn’t be so mean about it.”

“I’m not being mean,” he furrowed, voice still raised in disbelief. “I’m just… I just thought…”

“Well, you were _very_ wrong,” Aziraphale pulled away slowly, giving his back at him and walking to his clothes. “If you don’t want to do this, I understand.”

“ _What_? Why wouldn’t I?” He snarled, although there was a certain alarm in it. Aziraphale caressed a wrinkle from his trousers away, hearing Crowley’s rushed steps towards him, felt the warmth of him on his skin when he approached. “Look… I didn’t care if you’d shagged your way through the millennia two minutes ago. I don’t care, now, if you haven’t.”

Aziraphale tilted his head down, gaze blurring a little. He flattened another wrinkle.

“Just… I just care about if you want it now. W-With me.”

“I think I’ve said that already.”

“Then,” Crowley placed his palms on his arms and kissed his nape, “there’s nothing else you’ve to worry about.”

Aziraphale breathed in, feeling the trembling and the warmness taking over his flesh again.

“Are you still in the mood?” Crowley whispered with a velvety and rough voice, close to his ear, a voice that would have ignited his want if it weren’t already flaring. 

He nodded and hummed. Crowley turned him around softly, gazing at him with a mix of love and lust that almost made him fall against the nightstand. The demon breathed in raggedly and freed himself of his underwear, presenting himself completely naked and ready.

Aziraphale looked at him, quivering and feeling himself harden even more. It wasn’t  so hard to take off his own underwear, now he had exposed the secret. He didn’t think there could be anything more embarrassing than that waiting for him. Crowley took him in for a second, pupils expanding a little bit more, blush  creeping down to his chest.  T hen, he reached for him, placing his hands on his neck with supreme softness and kissed him.

They fell on the bed, kind of, Crowley trying to not fall over him while Aziraphale pulled him down and on top of his body. The awkward moment passed, dissipating with every passionate kiss, with every desperate touch and with every movement of their bodies. Crowley kissed him with intention, licking into his mouth and biting lower lip,  and  ma de space from himself between his legs, his erection digging on his stomach.

“What do you want?” Crowley breathed out, moving to kiss and bite his neck and lick at the shell of his ear, making Aziraphale mewl. “What do you need? Tell me. Tell me and it’s yours.”

“Inside me,” he barely managed. “I need you inside me.”

Crowley growled, losing the strength of his arms for a second, almost collapsing over the angel. Aziraphale cupped his face, needing to kiss him,  _feel_ him, until the End of the World and beyond.

“Fuck me, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered roughly, mind clouded, too drunk on him to remember what fear was, even if just for now.

“Need to get you ready first,” he said, a bit breathlessly. “Think you can wait a few minutes?”

Aziraphale nodded. They could use a miracle, of course, but the thought of Crowley seeing after him, getting him ready with his  long, dextrous  fingers, was too intoxicating.

Crowley grinned, just a bit wickedly, sending Aziraphale’s heart into a race. He looked debauched, a little sweaty and eager, but utterly tempting,  _beautiful_ , with his hair falling over his forehead and his eyes shining with mischief, still completely yellow. Although there was something different about that smile. It was more open.  _Happier_ . It reminded him of Crowley in Eden, even if not completely.

“Warn me if I go too fast or you’re uncomfortable,” Crowley warned, before starting to make his way down his body with kisses.

The way Crowley managed to make his touches and kisse s reverent and wicked at the same time amazed Aziraphale, and let him squirming and wanting more and more. Crowley kissed and licked his nipples, nibbled at the soft and sensitive places of his torso, slowly making his way down to his coach. His hands caressed him, lowering at the same pace he did, and there was a feeling of safeness in it, as if Crowley was silently trying to calm him, keep him relaxed.

He let him do, tried to focus only on the softness of his skin and the wet warmness of his mouth. He wasn’t exactly sure about what the demon planned but, when he stood between his legs on his knees, grabbed one of legs and started to kiss his shin, his knee, his thigh… Well, it wasn’t that, certainly. 

Crowley squeezed his thigh, sinking his face in it and biting it, ripping a moan from the angel and emitting a growl of pleasure himself. “Been wanting to bite these thighs for millennia, angel,” he spoke, sounding distant and  drunk , but gaz ed at him  then  with unrestrained want. “ _Fuck,_ you’re so gorgeous.”

Whining, he sensed his body melting even more against the mattress. Crowley took his eyes away, dropping them to his effort, flushed and dripping on his stomach. He lowered, placing himself between his legs and taking his hand close to his cock, but not grabbing it yet. He looked up. “Yes?”

Aziraphale nodded and Crowley finally took him in hand, stroking him twice and then sinking down even more, allowing his cock into his mouth. He cried out at the sensation, overwhelming, hot and warm like anything he’d ever felt. Crowley moaned around him and felt his serpentine tongue trace him, caress him with eagerness. The angel arched and gripped the duvet under him, hard, barely resisting the urge to move his hips, to fuck into Crowley’s mouth.

Crowley bobbed his head, slow and with intent, savouring him. Aziraphale summoned some strength from who knows where to open his eyes and admire Crowley, his lips wrapped around him, cock disappearing into his mouth. The demon had to see him sideways and immediately raised his eyes to him, freeing his cock just to trace it with his tongue, clearly making it more of a show for him, and took him all in again.

Surrendered and about to suffer a very embarrassing discorporation, Aziraphale dropped his head and closed his eyes, crying out and feeling his approaching orgasm burning  at  his lower belly, pooling like an avalanche of fire.

Crowley backed away  suddenly and placed his hands under his tights, pushing his legs up and bending him a little. Right away, he sank on him again, tongue lapping at his entrance. Aziraphale  gasped, shocked, cock jumping and dripping precome again at the new but pleasurable sensation.

He lapped at him without hurry and, after a while, he started to open him with his tongue, slipping it in with care. By the time he rose from between his legs, Aziraphale was a mess. Crowley looked at him with something close to concern.

“Are you alright?” He asked, just as breathless as the angel.

“More than,” he breathed out.

“‘Kay,” Crowley muttered, although didn’t stop looking at him this time, not even when he slipped one finger into him, miraculously sleek.

Aziraphale moaned, at the feeling and at the sight. He had to close his eyes again, try to breathe in, sensing himself approach the edge again at the  sensation of Crowley inside him.

He had just slipped the third finger  in when he stopped abruptly, even if he didn’t take them out. Aziraphale opened his eyes when  he  felt the demon leaning over him. He found Crowley’s expression tainted with actual concern now.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Aziraphale furrowed, trying to catch his breath. “Of course.”

“You’re… Really tense.”

“Am I?”

“Y-Yeah,” Crowley muttered, softly and with a note of sadness lingering in his voice. He retired his fingers from inside him, a feeling of emptiness settling inside the angel.

“Oh,” he breathed out, confused. “I… I didn’t realise. I… Oh dear, I was enjoying it, truly.”

“Not doubting it,” he added, still furrowing. “Just…”

There was a flash of doubt in his eyes that scared Aziraphale, that made anxiety, buried in pleasure, awaken again.

“You need to know we don’t have to do this, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, voice tight. “If you’re not sure.”

“I’ve already told you that-” he started to get defensive, or desperate. He doubted he could stop now, let go of Crowley when he wanted him as close as their bodies allowed.

“ _I know_ ,” he cut him off. “I know what you’ve said. But you’re still tense.”

“Because…” He bit his lower lip. “Because it’s… I’m nervous,” he opted to say with a shy voice, looking away. “I’ve wanted you for long and…”

“Bullshit. That’s not why.”

Aziraphale fixed his gaze on him again, narrowing his eyes, but he deflated rather quickly, sighing. “Can’t we just go on? I’m  _fine_ , really.”

Crowley kept staring at him, unblinking and calling his bluff silently. At last, Aziraphale gave up, dropped the last barrier between the demon and his vulnerability.

“I’m _scared_ this is going to go all wrong,” he whispered, voice shaking, and he didn’t need to be more concrete. “But I _want_ to take the risk. I need you.”

“But you have me,” Crowley said, voice just as low. “We don’t need to do anything like this, not if it puts you in such a state.”

“Crowley, but…” He felt his throat tightening, burning. “You don’t understand. It’s not me I’m worried about. Not mostly, anyway. The consequences if we get caught will be worse for you. I can’t… I can’t lose you. Oh dear,” he sat up, everything collapsing over him at once, Crowley moving to allow him. “This has been a dreadful idea. I’m… I was so absorbed. I was _selfish_. I _am_.”

“Hey,” Crowley grabbed him, cupped his face to still him. “Hey, angel. Stop. None of that.” 

Aziraphale pouted, swallowing down the need to sob creeping up his throat. He sniffled, looking into Crowley’s eyes, suddenly fierce.

“Hell wouldn’t care, if they came to know. Capable of giving me a commendation, even, those mouldy bastards. You don’t have to worry about me. It’s you who might… Have to face worse repercussions. I never said a thing about this ‘cause I couldn’t risk… Couldn’t let Heaven hurt you. O-Or that you Fell.”

“If I haven’t… Fallen, yet, I don’t think I will, not even if we did this,” Aziraphale said, shaking. “And Heaven would never hurt me. They might be… Very disappointed but I could, I don’t know... Make something up to explain it, I guess.”

There was a silence between them, all over again, loaded and awkward. At last, Crowley moved away from him, clearly wanting to get off the bed. Aziraphale saw how he was putting up barriers again, the guarded appearance he’d wore like a second skin for millennia returning. His heart sank. He wanted Crowley happy and open, just like he’d seen him a few minutes ago.

He grabbed his wrist and Crowley turned to him, but didn’t raise his eyes.

“Don’t go,” Aziraphale pleaded. “ _Please_.”

Crowley finally looked at him, eyes sparkling with a layer of wetness. Tentative, he crawled to his side again.

“Make me believe it,” Aziraphale muttered and Crowley furrowed, confused. “Make me believe you’ll be safe, even if we do this.”

Aziraphale felt the most coward being in the whole existence. Never taking the first step. Never daring. Always needing Crowley to do it. And always surprised when he did.

The demon understood. He’d always been so cautious with his survival… But he always popped up and searched for Aziraphale, had loved him for millennia. Aziraphale had always been afraid this would cost him his life, but Crowley had never doubted in coming back to him, again and again. He needed to feel that again, now, how Crowley never doubted in them. He needed to feel that trust in that everything would be alright for him, that he would keep returning.

Crowley reached for him in a rush, trapping him into an embrace and kissing him hard, desperate and without masking his need of him. Aziraphale caressed him, almost compulsively, feeling he had to undress him again, get rid of the walls he’d built around himself in a second. The demon returned his fingers to his entrance, slipping in two and, soon after, three, fucking Aziraphale with more determination than before. He moaned, refusing to stop kissing him, until the desperation started to crack him from the inside.

“ _Crowley_ ,” he whined, gripping his hair too tightly. “Fuck me, darling. Fuck me now.”

Panting, he  pulled his hand  back  and slicked his own cock, making space for himself between his legs once more. He searched one last confirmation with his eyes, found it in Aziraphale’s, and guided himself to his entrance. Aziraphale gasped when he felt Crowley pushing in, the stretch divine and hellish at the same time, burning with a certain ache and wrecking in the pleasure that sent all over his mortal body.

Crowley sank in slowly, careful, and just groaned, letting his pleasure show, when he bottomed out. “ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed breathlessly.

Aziraphale rose his hands in veneration, cupping the demon’s face, feeling full and loved and scared, not because Heaven or Hell any more. This feeling was too huge; he felt his corporation couldn’t contain it. His soul couldn’t contain it.  But i t couldn’t be  _wrong_ . It just couldn’t. If this wasn’t Love, all- enc ompassing and absolute, he certainly didn’t know what was.

Crowley was trembling openly now and looked just as overwhelmed as he felt. Aziraphale rose a little, tilting his head, and Crowley lowered to capture his lips in a desperate kiss.

“Move,” Aziraphale asked. “I want to feel you.”

He held onto the demon’s back when he started to move his hips, movements cautious and slow, easing the ache until there was just pleasure, fuelling his need with torturous rhythm. Squirming, he focused on Crowley, the weight and warmness of his body over him, the little puffs of air he let out, the reverent concentration of his features.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aziraphale whimpered. “The most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

Crowley let out a breathy laugh, smiling with shyness. He didn’t say a thing; he just kissed him, hungry and passionate, and started to move faster. Aziraphale let out a broken moan, holding onto his back harder and tilting his head back, consumed by the sensation of Crowley thrusting into him, again and again and again. The demon took advantage of his exposed neck, sucking and biting on its tender skin.

“Oh, darling,” Aziraphale whined, barely able to keep his eyes open. “Oh, _Crowley_. You feel _so good_. You’re so good to me.”

He sensed the muscles of his back tensing more and heard the guttural sound the demon made then, who hid his face under his jaw and thrust harder into him. Aziraphale  sensed the spark that had been burning inside him all that time explode, waves of pleasure crashing against the barriers of his existence, making every one of his cells shake.

“ _Ah_! Crowley! Crowley! That’s… Oh, _God_ ,” he cried out, holding onto him, probably scratching his back, feeling like falling and raising at the same time. “Don’t stop, my dear. Please, _don’t stop_.”

“Fucking… _Fuck_.” Crowley growled, slowing down a little. It took Aziraphale a moment to register Crowley had just snapped his fingers. He didn’t until he felt the spark of demonic energy in the air around them and Crowley inhaled sharply, raising on his forearms again. There was certain tightness in his expression.

“What have you done?” Aziraphale asked in a breathy voice.

“‘S nothing,” he rushed to say, kissed him and started to thrust into him again with a fast rhythm.

Immediately, Aziraphale lost himself in the pleasure, in the sounds Crowley made and his wrecked expression of bliss. He couldn’t believe he was the reason of that. But he wanted,  _oh_ , he wanted to be the reason of those moans and that slack mouth and that brow creased in pleasure for the rest of the eternity.

“Fuck, angel,” Crowley whined, searching for one of his hands and interlacing his fingers, pining it to the mattress. “Fuckfuckfuck. I lo- _Shit_. Tell me you know. I can’t say it. _Tell me you know it,_ ” he pleaded, eyes blurry with desperation and pleasure.

“I know. Darling, I know,” he managed to say, whimpering, barely coherent.

He devoured his mouth, swallowing down every gasp and moan. He rose a little bit more, taking his hand to Aziraphale’s neglected cock and started stroking him. Aziraphale cried out and whimpered, burning all over and feeling he was tumbling on the edge.

“Dear, I’m-I’m so close, I…” He whimpered, gripping Crowley’s hand harder, his ring digging into both their fleshes.

“Let go,” Crowley dropped in a grunt, but sounded soft and inviting like one of his temptations. “Let me see you come, angel. Come for me.”

And he tumbled down. He let go,  feeling safe into Crowley’s arms. He came with a  rough  gasp, holding onto the demon, trembling and blinded by the intensity of it. He sensed Crowley still thrusting, gently now, fucking him until he writhed with overstimulation.

After that, he felt thoughtless, too content and blurred at the edges to do anything but cling to the demon and linger in that strange and soft space after the climax. Even so, he  felt how Crowley placed him better on the bed and untangled his grip on his hand, how he pulled out of him and used a miracle to clean them. He opened his eyes then, looking at Crowley, who was already laying himself by his side, content like he’d never seen him before. Their eyes met. 

“That was…” Aziraphale breathed out, in disbelief this had happened at all, but grateful, grateful every second for the creature laying there, beside him. “Wonderful.”

“‘M glad,” the demon smiled wickedly and leaned over to kiss him, sweet and slow, no more rush or frantic movements.

“B-but you haven’t,” Aziraphale muttered between kisses, “come.”

Crowley kept kissing him. “No.”

“Why?” Aziraphale said, confused and a little worried.

The demon was definitely using the kisses to avoid answering now. “Can’t,” he breathed out in the end.

He pushed him away, furrowing. “What do you mean you can’t?”

Crowley sighed, looking away. Uncomfortable. “I lose the concentration to keep time stopped and… Can’t let that happen, so…”

For a few seconds, Aziraphale tried to process that information. When it settled, he gasped. “The miracle! It was for that,” he exclaimed, between alarmed and scandalised. The demon shrugged and let himself flop onto his back, as if it was nothing. “Crowley!”

“What?” He looked at him, raising his arms and resting them on the pillow, head cupped on his hands. Aziraphale tried with all of him not to get distracted by the sight of him.

“You-You can’t do that to yourself!”

“‘S nothing. Don’t fret,” he said nonchalantly. “It’s the only way we could keep on it and, well…” He looked away again, up to the ceiling. “I didn’t want to stop. Had to.”

Aziraphale deflated, realising it’d have to be like this every time they decided to have sex. Forever.

This disappointment had to be clear  on his expression , since Crowley rushed to recline over his forearm and face him, cupping his face with his free hand.

“Hey. For real. Isn’t a big deal,” he reassured him.

“But… It has to be very uncomfortable,” Aziraphale pouted, guilty. “And you’ll have to hold back every time and… That can’t be enjoyable.”

“I’ve enjoyed myself very much, I can tell you,” he grinned and stopped when Aziraphale didn’t seem convinced. Seriousness settled on his expression again. “I’m serious, Aziraphale. Do you really think I’d give up this,” he made a vague gesture between them, furrowing a little, “just for a few seconds? _Absolutely not._ ”

He nodded, not wanting to bother him more; he already felt he’d messed most of their first time. Instead, he moved closer and they hugged, laying over the duvet. Then, they caressed and kissed  each other , letting a bit of p ea ce settle in the room.

“How are we going to do this?” Aziraphale said after a while, resting his head on Crowley’s chest and caressing the hair there. “We can’t do this every day. I don’t want you to get overtired, using so much power frequently. Or attract too much attention from Hell.”

“What do you propose, then?” Crowley said as he caressed his curls.

“Maybe… Once a month?” He opted to say, although it pained him. A month for them was nothing but, suddenly, it seemed like an eternity.

“‘Kay.”

“We can… Still go to have dinner and meet here, if you want to.”

“Is fine for me. But you’ll have to keep your hands to yourself, angel,” he mocked him, a smile in his voice.

“Same for you, _darling_.”

He heard Crowley’s beating harder and couldn’t avoid the smile that crept up to his lips. 

They stretched the moment as long as they could before Crowley had to go. It was strange, the moment they got off the bed and started to dress up again. The y kept glancing at the other ,  sometimes with eyes full of contained hunger and others tainted with sorrow before the departing. They kissed again, trying to keep it as chaste as possible, mostly succeeding, before walking down the stairs to get to the bookshop.

There, Crowley snapped his fingers, time shifted and continued its course. The demon grunted, sighed and stretched a little.

“What about lunch this Friday?” Aziraphale proposed immediately, knowing he might not be able to let Crowley go if he hadn’t something to look forward to, a date when he knew he would see the demon again.

He smiled, pleased. “Works for me.”

Aziraphale smiled too, although a little sadly. He walked him to the door, trying to capture little details o f him, things that confirmed everything had actually happened. There were a few wrinkles in his clothes. His cheeks were still a little flushed and a few love-bites were forming  on his neck. His skin glowed, with dried sweat and contentment. His hair was a bit of a mess, just enough to know it had been ruffled and then tried to comb with fingers. He was  _so very beautiful_ it made his heart ache and flutter at the same time.

“Goodbye, angel,” Crowley said with a level of fondness he hadn't allowed himself to show before.

“Goodbye, my dear,” he answered.

And with that, he walked away and Aziraphale closed the door. Smiling, he made his way to the bookshelves, ready to do something mildly productive. However, he could just think of everything that had happened that crazy morning and how he could feel the proof all over his body and his soul.

His smile faded rather quickly, eyes getting teary. He shouldn’t feel sad, not really, with how much he had acquired in a few hours. If everything had gone as he’d first planned, he would be alone now, without Crowley and with a broken heart. Now, he had Crowley, in a secret and dangerous way, but he had him. He could love him and be loved back. It should be enough.

But he wanted more, such a greedy thing he felt. He wanted Crowley there, with him, more time than he could scratch. He wanted to not be afraid all the time, not  to worry  that Crowley would be taken away from him and tortured for  _loving_ him. He wanted to give Crowley the kind of love that didn’t make him renounce to anything or put more weight on his shoulders.

For the first time ever, he truly envied humans. They could love openly, and run away to a safe place where they could, in the worst cases. They couldn’t do that. There was no safe place for them in the whole creation.

He was about to start tearing up when the door of the bookshop opened abruptly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M AAAAAAAAAAAALIVE
> 
> Sorry I know it's been like... four months? My Master has been crushing and I haven't had time for anything. Anyway, I'm done with my classes now and I COULD WRITE AT LAST. I hope you enjoyed this <3
> 
> See you (soon, I hope) xx


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